Work Text:
A while ago, Akaashi receives a letter with an address, maybe that's where it is. He decides to push through, earning him a place on the Bokuto estate. He forces himself inside, almost akin to John Wick, asking whoever he's pulling punches at the whereabouts of his companion.
With a trail of blood and unconscious men by his feet, Akaashi drags himself through the Japanese architecture, more men rush in, he fights them, inevitably loses- but Koutarou stops his impending doom.
Beaten and bloodied, hes taken in, he sits across Bokuto in a traditional low table. Koutarou is pristine and proper, in his traditional wear. Keiji looks ran through, blood splattered around his body, a knife wound or two, glasses broken, in his ransacked office wear.
"Where is he, Bokuto-san?"
"What do you mean Aka-"
"The dog! The fucking dog you left me with!"
The argument gets heated, Keiji leaps over the table and grabs Koutarou by the collar, shaking him, looming over him. The guards present in the room ready their guns, only to be waved away by Bokuto.
"He's the only thing I have left," Keiji chokes on his words, "You left." He sobs on Koutarou's chest, heaving, he's tired, so fucking tired of being left alone.